I am sitting in a coffee shop in Old Dublin, Ohio, the original part of town now built up and littered with hipster twee shops and restaurants. This Tehku Tea Shop, I was pleased to find, is owned and run by a woman and an immigrant. It is a small little shop only one block behind a Starbuck’s, and I was pleased to help keep it going.
I think of my mom saying, “It’s nice to be nice to the nice,” and telling me, when I was a child, to “Be nice.” Be a nice girl. Do things that nice girls do, like brush their hair, keep their legs together, smile. (You guessed it: sometimes I don’t do these things.)
If we were having coffee, we would be here for a long time since its been awhile since we met! We had birthday parties, both in Ohio and in St. Louis. (Oh yeah, Wee One is two. What did you do that she has to be two? 🙂
Columbus is having a sister March to the Women’s March on Washington that is to take place on the 21th, the day after the inauguration, and they decided to have it a week early to allow people to march both here and there. I haven’t taken part in a political march in awhile; maybe since undergrad.
A friend of mine (shout out to Tory – Minneapolis in the house!) told me a story about a college party she attended: a girl was passed out on the couch and several of the guys were surrounding her. They weren’t doing anything bad, but my friend wasn’t going to take the chance. She got over by the couch and yelled really loudly until this girl’s hapless friends came around and she got out. She said the girl was mad at her, and maybe nothing would have happened, but I’m impressed that my friend had the courage to step in like that.
She saw something, and she said something.
Last Monday, she texted us about a puppy had been locked in a car for about an hour with the windows up. She called the police for help.
She saw something, and she said something. This girl is a badass, in my book.
I was listening to a story on public radio and the speaker referenced a theory about a relationship between domestic violence (something of which the Orlando shooter had a history) and mass shootings.
I remember hearing a story about my own parents: it was at an outdoor church function that they both attended. At one point, mom had done something that displeased my father and he grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against the church wall. After he left, a friend of our family rushed up to her. Mom pleaded with her friend to do and say nothing, that this was how it “had to be.”
Would I have the courage to speak up if I saw something?
The See Something Say Something campaign is led by the Department of Homeland Security, but the phrase itself is also used in such things as bullying or domestic violence. (This excellent article gives tips in doing just that).
Have you done it before? How did it go?
I’m not a poetry person, usually, but I heard a story on NPR about a Seattle Arab-American author who wrote about places like Syria, where it becomes difficult to remember the individual human lives that are shrouded by the dirty cloud of war and violence.
The best writing, in my opinion, is simple and straightforward, yet pierces directly to your heart.
They call us now.
Before they drop the bombs.
A dear Muslim friend of mine just posted on Facebook about how afraid she and her family are about the rhetoric being said about Muslims in the U. S. and the “promise to protect the (non-Muslim) citizens.”
To my shame, I hadn’t even thought of her or other Muslim friends that have been grappling with this for a week.